


The First Snow

by amusingpineapple



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 15:03:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18075662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amusingpineapple/pseuds/amusingpineapple
Summary: Bucky remembers when snow didn't melt on metal.





	The First Snow

It was night-time when Steve found him. He was staring outside of the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room. It wasn’t often he got to look at Bucky like this, that almost peaceful look on his face like for one minute, his years of life were not marred on his face. The street lights shone through the glass to show the pallor of his skin, and it made him look so old, so much older than a man his age should. It was snowing outside. It was the first time it had snowed since Bucky had come back. The wind was whistling outside, blowing the snow around like icing sugar. Bucky was mesmerised. Steve had no idea how long he’d been there.

“Hey, Buck. You okay?”

Bucky didn’t look away from the snow, but there was no way he didn’t hear Steve coming. “Yeah.”

He continued watching like Steve wasn’t there at all, stood facing the window with his arms by his side. From his posture he looked content, nearly relaxed although Steve knew he was never truly relaxed. Relaxed was a luxury that had been taken from him long ago, and one that he’ll probably never get back. Bucky had been back for six months now, had worked his way up from scared to cautious to content. Steve hoped that one day he might even be happy.

“Do you want me to stay with you?”

“Dunno.” A shrug. “Yeah.”

Steve stood next to Bucky and stared out of the window with him, trying to work out what it was that had made him so calm. The month had been pretty hard on Bucky, giving him more bad days than good. It hurt Steve to watch him go through that, to see and not be able to anything more than offer a hug. It was the only thing he could give. Sam had said that it was normal, that this was a natural human response to all of the pain he had taken over the past seventy years. There was so much pain that was not his to bear, so much agony that he had been forced to endure against his will. There was so much that Steve didn’t save him from. 

“What are you thinking so hard about?”

Steve turned to see Bucky watching at him with the same intense look he had been fixing on the snow.

“It’s nothing.”

“Don’t look like nothing to me, pal. You’re frowning.”

Steve shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

“Sure,” he drawled. Bucky sounded so much like he used to. Steve knew he shouldn’t be making comparisons but he couldn’t help it. His brain was always looking for little changes between then and now. There were always these little bursts of warmth he felt when Bucky brought up a memory from before the war, even though he knew he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t. It wasn’t fair on Bucky to keep comparing him to the man he used to be. 

“Why are you looking at the snow?”

Steve saw Bucky shift away from him ever so slightly, clenching his metal fist.

Sometimes he thought the pain never left, would never leave. Bucky had been stewing in it for so long that he no longer realised. It reminded him of when he got the serum and had to get used to breathing properly for the first time ever. All the knowledge of his own body from before the war had turned useless. He didn’t have to worry about asthma attacks or his back playing up on him. He hadn’t known himself anymore.

“Did I ever tell you about the first time I broke the programming?”

Steve shook his head. He knew it was more of a rhetorical question. Bucky was a careful man now. Careful with the way he walked, the way he spoke. Every action was deliberate and well thought out. He was a tactician through and through. It made Steve more wary about how he acted around Bucky. Steve kept remembering that he couldn’t put his arm around Bucky’s shoulder or give him a playful slap on the back. He had made that mistake once before, when Bucky had cooked dinner for the both of them for the first time. Bucky had flinched and Steve had taken back his hand immediately, apologising as if he could take it back. Bucky had said that it was fine, but hadn’t come near Steve for three days afterwards.

“It was the first time I had been allowed outside in months. The Chair wasn’t as good as it is now, so they had to do more wipes more often. There was snow. I mean it was Russia, of course there was snow, but it had been ages since I’d seen it. The snowflakes were landing on the arm and I freaked the fuck out.” 

He laughed bitterly.

“Because the thing about this snow is that it wasn’t melting. It just settled onto the cold metal and stayed there. Snow’s not meant to do that. And I screamed and I ripped at my shoulder like I could tear the arm off and feel the snow fall on my arm socket instead.”

“Bucky.”

Steve looked at him with pained eyes. There was a twist in his gut when Bucky stared back at him with a neutral face, like he wasn’t talking about his own torture so casually. 

He knew how he looked with his arms open as an invitation for a hug. He was probably giving Bucky what Sam called his ‘puppy dog eyes’.

“It’s fine Steve. It was a long time ago.” It felt like Bucky was trying to comfort Steve more than himself.

“Still happened though.”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitched downwards ever so slightly. “Yeah. It did.”

The frown was back on Bucky’s face again, his eyes distant. For a minute, Steve wanted to be selfish. He wanted to hold Bucky in his arms, cover Bucky’s body with his own and pretend he could give his friend some form of protection. Like he could save Bucky from being hurt ever again. 

He knows he can’t. He was too late. Seventy years too late. All that time that Bucky was in pain, he was sitting at the bottom of the ocean. The files were bad. And what’s worse is that it showed only a fraction of what happened. Bucky had this look on his face that meant he was thinking. He zoned out of whatever was happening at the time and sometimes Steve couldn’t bring him back for hours. 

“I always thought that… maybe it could be a good thing.” Bucky’s voice was quiet. “You know how people forget things normally? Like how if you don’t think about a certain thing for years eventually you’ll forget it? I thought maybe it would be like that. Every time before they wiped me, I thought it would make it all go away. I could forget about the things I had just done and start over. But when I woke up, I was clueless and the whole thing started over and over again.”

Steve’s fingers brushed against Bucky’s. It was the only offer of comfort Bucky would accept.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now. You’ll never have to go back there. I won’t let them take you.”

Bucky just smiled his sad smile and continued watching the snow. They stayed like that, standing in front of the window with their fingers intertwined until the sun started to rise.


End file.
